


Till Then

by YacobYeed



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 08:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14565207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YacobYeed/pseuds/YacobYeed
Summary: She shifted on her heels for a moment, trying to push aside her own thoughts, little ideas, little voices that wondered things she didn't want to think of. Possibilities that'd crushed her so often at night when she left the station and came back to this place-This empty place where she slept, ate, showered- and when she did these things, the part that really hurt was all of the reminders of Jacob.





	Till Then

**Author's Note:**

> Ayoo, this is my AU for my rook and Jacob before all the events of Far Cry 5. Timelines wonky? Why, yes, i know it is but i just like to suffer.

A dull bubbling eventually roused the deputy from her seat in the kitchen, her shoulders were in somewhat of a lazy heap and her walk was a tired shamble towards the stove where the rumbling pot began to boil over and hiss as its contents met the burner beneath. 

Rook lifted the lid and began to stir what was supposed to be bowtie pasta, but looked more like a mystery as the noodles all clumped together at the bottom of the pot. Whether or not the deputy was frustrated by this was impossible to know, as the only reaction she gave was a soft hum that lead into a familiar tune. 

She shifted, stirring the veal in the pan on the neighboring side of the stove with the very same spoon. The sizzle and crack put her at ease, along with the sweet scent that brought about a comforting familiarity. 

Once she'd given it her stamp of half-assed approval, the ragu jar was next.   
Rook considered microwaving it, she really did. But fuck that, she muttered aloud and called dinner served. 

Dinner for one.  
She shifted on her heels for a moment, trying to push aside her own thoughts, little ideas, little voices that wondered things she didn't want to think of. Possibilities that'd crushed her so often at night when she left the station and came back to this place-  
This empty place where she slept, ate, showered- and when she did these things, the part that really hurt was all of the reminders of Jacob. 

Little things here and there, things she'd never give a second thought to if it weren't for how quiet it was now. The pillows, the photo sitting in their living room that she'd only recently been able to glace at without breaking down with a bottle of scotch, the laundry she'd reluctantly washed- and the one jacket she left untouched just so she could remember the scent.   
Shit, even the taxidermy hanging on the wall made her misty eyed after that scotch.

It was happening again, she acknowledged, eating the undercooked pasta and veal before stopping to realize she'd forgotten her booze.   
And her room temperature ragu sauce. 

But where did she leave the booze?   
Not under the cabinet, nope.  
Bathroom?-  
Oh

Right next to my baby, she realized.   
It felt pitiful grabbing the booze, giving a passing glance to the photo laying on the end table there. 

Deputy Rook was hardened woman, not the tall burly type, but ruthless. She'd put away men twice her size, mostly some local bikers from small-time gangs that got a little too rowdy at the bar. A few robberies, mostly kids looking to cause trouble. More than a few run ins with mother nature. No one would ever get to see this side of her, she'd sooner drink herself to death-which didn't seem far off- than be caught bawling her eyes out like a little bitch. 

 

Rook brought her knees up the her chest while she accepted her fate was to lay on this couch for the rest of the night and began to gasp as her eyes started to burn and a great amount of pressure flooded her head.   
"Shit, shit, shit…" she chanted as her body was wracked once again by waves of raw emotion she couldn't begin to process. 

The last remnants of control over her thoughts she had left her and she began to wonder what Jacob was doing right now, and that thought in turn lead the the real questions;  
Is he okay?  
Is he alive? 

Both were putting a great amount of strain on her already trembling body and her mind continued to race.

"Come home you son of a bitch" 

~

 

Rook trained her sights on a cultist, early 40's man, if she had to guess judging by the balding.   
Heh, 'judging' she mused but her features remained stone solid as she spied the mangy wolf stalking nearby her target. 

She took the shot, one precise blow to the head, and the wolf was down for the count. The balding cultist was next, he was too slow to process anything before another bullet made a home in his flesh. Now his crimson would decorate the side of the road like so many other bodies. Not all were cultists, though.   
Happy were the days when it'd just been roadkill. 

 

The radio strapped to her belt hummed static, and rook went still in anticipation, eyes still sharp over the road and the brush beyond.   
Her chest still sank a little every time she heard that voice, 

'We will cull the herd,' Jacob's familiar, low voice began his usual speech. Somehow, it wasn't the same anymore, something changed.

Rook winced, her own reasoning biting at her like a rabid dog.   
Oh, really, Rook?   
Joining into a crack ass cult with your creepy brother and murdering innocent people? Huh, wonder what could be different. 

A lot could change in five years, but that was definitely and understatement and she still felt terribly stupid even after admitting that to herself. 

Maybe she was stupid.   
She most definitely was.   
Seeing him there in that church when she'd gone to cuff Joseph, standing there in deep quiet and just eyeing her. The last straw on the camel's back, she supposed.   
But that was a lie, it'd been over before then.   
It'd been over the moment he bought into the cult, shit, maybe before that when he came home. Something was different about him and never the same, no matter how hard she tried to pretend. 

Maybe that'd make it easier in the long run.  
Easier because the man she'd married died in that war years ago and never came home.


End file.
